Building a Better Maverick
by MaverickLover2
Summary: Bart Maverick and Doralice Donovan have tied the knot, at last. Now what? Follow them through their first year or so of married life and watch the roving gambler mature into a happy husband, while still remaining Bart Maverick.
1. Learning to Crawl

Building a Better Maverick Chapter 1 – Learning to Crawl

Everything was supposed to get easier after we were married. And they did, in a way. I knew where I was goin' every day around five o'clock, and that I was gonna be takin' the prettiest girl in town home with me. I knew whose bed I was sleepin' in every night, and where Doralice was sleepin', too. And I knew if we didn't get that piece of land that Doralice wanted bought from Jasper Willoughby I was never gonna get eggs for breakfast again.

Jasper owned the vacant lot behind our house and the empty lot to the north, too. Doralice wanted the lot behind us for a fenced yard with a chicken coop and chickens, so we'd have fresh eggs and chicken dinners. And we'd already started talking about adding on a room or two for any future Maverick's that might come along, so we'd be ready if and when.

And dang it, Jasper was turning out to be a pain in the behind. First he wanted to sell, then he didn't want to sell, then he wanted so much money that if we bought the land I'd have to build the damn chicken coop myself. And we all remember what happened in Mexico when I tried to build a school. I'd finally asked him to make a decision about selling us the property by Friday. The land had just been sittin' there for at least three years, and nobody else seemed to want it.

It was hard work, gettin' used to workin' five or six nights a week at the same time that I was tryin' to learn how to be a good husband. At least time-wise. There used to be time for me to laze around and do nothin' . . . now there was no time even to do somethin'. Most nights one or the other of us fell into bed, too exhausted to do much anything but sleep. We kept tellin' each other that it was just gonna take time to get used to all the things we had to do, and we'd learn how to make time for the important stuff. Then one night as I pulled my wife close to me I realized it had been more than a week since I'd had the energy to make love to her, and I was ashamed.

"Honey, you still awake?"

"Mmm-hmm" she answered me.

"I think we should hire a housekeeper."

"You do? Don't you think I do a good enough job?"

She sounded indignant, and I couldn't blame her. I hadn't explained myself. "I think you do a fabulous job. But between the saloon and the house and everything else there is to do, we never have time for each other. One or the other of us is always too tired. And I'd much rather hold my wife in my arms than fold the laundry."

I waited for a response and it took a few minutes to realize that Doralice had just proven my point. She'd fallen asleep while I held her.

The next morning I got up early and made coffee. Doralice came out of the bedroom, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes and yawning. "Sorry about last night."

I scooped her into my arms and kissed her. "That's alright, you just proved my point. Does Ana Sofia still come in and clean for Maude once in a while?"

She took the coffee I handed her and nodded her head. "I think so. Whenever Maude needs her."

"And wasn't she lookin' for a full-time job?"

"Last I heard, she was."

"What about her?" I asked hopefully.

"That's not a bad idea. She's Mamacita Rosita's daughter. Let's go down to Mamacita's and have breakfast, and we'll see if she's there."

Convincing Doralice was the easy part. Now we had to convince Ana Sofia.

XXXXXXXX

Ana Sofia didn't come into her mother's café until we were almost finished with breakfast. Doralice looked more relaxed than I had seen her in days and I was feelin' pretty good about things myself

She was a pretty girl, maybe seventeen or eighteen, and she came straight to our table. "Miss Doralice, Mister Bart, how are you? How is married life treating you?"

"It's good, Ana Sofia, there just seems to be too much of it. I mean, there's too many things to do in a day. Are you still looking for a job?"

"Si, Señora, I am. Do you know of one?"

She was still standin' by our table and I got up and pulled a chair out for her. "Please, sit down. As a matter of fact, we do know of a job. With our workin' at the saloon so many hours there's just no time for anything else. Would you consider workin' for us at our house?"

She smiled and nodded. "I think that would be very good for all of us. What would you want me to do?"

"Just take care of the house. Clean, do laundry, wash up the breakfast dishes that we leave, and play with Lucy."

Ana Sofia looked confused. "Lucy?"

"Our kitten. Oh, and maybe get supper started for us. We can work it out as we go along. Would you consider that?"

"Si, Señora, I would be most happy to do those things for you. Do you want me to come every day?"

"Yes, at first. We'll see how long it takes to get things done. Can you start tomorrow?"

"Si, Señora. Is nine o'clock too early?"

I shook my head. "Nine o'clock is just fine, Ana Sofia. We'll see you then."

I breathed a sigh of relief as she returned to the kitchen. "That was easy enough."

Doralice giggled. "That was just the beginning, handsome. It's still gonna take a while for things to settle down. But I promise to stay awake tonight."

I paid the bill and we headed back towards home. "What do we have to do this mornin'?"

"Well, we need to . . . "

I got a wicked grin on my face. "No, we don't. Ana Sofia's comin' tomorrow. Whatever we've got to do today can wait until then."

"But we . . . "

"It will wait." I bent down and kissed her, right there on the boardwalk, in front of everybody.

"Oh," she replied. "I see what you mean."

I was beginnin' to get the hang of this husband business.


	2. Pauly

Chapter 2 – Pauly

Having Ana Sofia working for us didn't solve all our problems, but it sure helped a lot. And if Lucy could have talked she would have called her 'Aunty Sofia.'

Meanwhile, we finally got to Friday. Doralice was hopeful; sure that Jasper would sell the property to us. I was skeptical, at best. Like I said before, Willoughby had changed his mind so many times I was beginnin' to feel a breeze. Considerin' where the lots were and how they were located in relation to our house, they couldn't have been worth more than two hundred dollars total. Because of my wife's insistence that we needed them, I was willin' to go as high as four hundred.

There was a knock on the door that mornin'and Doralice went to answer it. "Please come in, Mr. Willoughby," I heard her say, and I hurried out into the front room. Ana Sofia was working in the kitchen.

"Morning, Jasper. I hope you've got good news for us," I said as I reached to shake hands with him.

"I do, Bart. I've decided once and for all to sell you the property. All of it . . . for a thousand dollars."

Doralice squealed, and I damn near fainted. "A . . . thousand . . . dollars?"

"That's what I said. A thousand dollars."

"Could you excuse us for a minute, Mr. Willoughby?" Doralice inquired as she took me by the hand and led me into the bedroom, closing the door behind her. "That's way too much, isn't it?" she asked once we were alone.

"About five times what the land's worth."

"What do we do?"

"Tell him it's too much and we don't want it at that price."

"But . . . darn it, Bart, we need it."

I shook my head. "Not at that price we don't. We can buy any other house in town with twice as much acreage for half that amount of money."

Doralice looked broken-hearted, but she agreed with me. When we returned to the front room I opened the door and held it for Willoughby. "Thanks very much, Jasper, but that's too high a price for those small parcels of land. We'll have to pass."

Willoughby started to walk out the door but stopped and turned around. "Eight hundred."

Once again I shook my head. "Nope. Still can't do it. Thanks again." I closed the door behind him and in less than a minute he was knocking on it.

"Alright, Bart. Six hundred dollars."

"Four hundred," I countered.

"Five."

"Four fifty, total."

He sighed and shrugged. "Alright. Four hundred and fifty dollars."

I held the door open for him. "Come in, Jasper. I'll get the money for you. You go with me down to the land office to record the sale?"

"Sure," he answered resignedly. "Why not?"

Twenty minutes later both parcels were now the official property of Mister and Misses Bart Maverick. When I got back to the house, Doralice was practically bouncing all over the place. "How did you know he'd do that? Come all the way down from a thousand dollars, I mean."

"Poker, blue eyes."

"You read him the way you would somebody you were playing poker against?"

"That's it, exactly. Let's go look at this great acquisition, shall we?"

We went out the kitchen door and closed it behind us to make sure that Lucy didn't follow us. Doralice was right, between the two parcels of land we now had more than enough room for a chicken coop with a large open area, the cow Doralice figured we'd eventually need, and a considerable addition onto the house. Doralice was thinking four rooms; I was content with a more modest two rooms. She turned to me with excitement in her eyes. "How soon can we get started?"

"Whoa there, Misses Maverick. Let's find somebody to build the coop and the fence first, before we tackle anything else."

"Oh." There was disappointment in her voice. "Oh, of course. Well, how about Pauly?"

"Pauly?"

"I forgot. You weren't here when Maude had most of the expansion done on the saloon. Pauly Wilcox was one of the men that worked on it, and he ended up being the one that stayed here longest and supervised all of the finishing work. Pauly liked it so much in Little Bend that when everything was done he just moved into town. He's been building things and doing repair work here ever since. I talked to him about workin' for us when we first thought about buyin' the lots. He'd be more than happy to take care of it for us."

Well, at least now I knew who Pauly was. "How well do you know him?"

"Pauly's a good man. He's dependable and does excellent work. He lives down the street from Maude, so when we go in today we can ask her to talk to him for us."

That was good enough for me, at least good enough to get started. I was happy enough not to have to build the chicken coop, and I was already thinkin' about eggs for breakfast again, somewhere down the road. "Sure. Sounds fine. See if he can come by tomorrow and the two of us can tell him what we want."

Doralice gave me a hug and a kiss, and we went back inside. I'm not sure I was quite prepared for Pauly, or how entwined in our lives he was gonna become.

XXXXXXXX

This was the best time of mornin', when my wife was lying in my arms and there was no one here but the two of us. I leaned over and kissed the tip of her nose, and was just about to progress to other parts of her, when somebody knocked on the front door. The sun was barely up, what dang fool would be out visiting at this time of day? I was hopin' that if I just ignored it they would go away, but no such luck. They knocked again, this time more persistently. I disengaged myself from Doralice and rolled out of bed, grabbing my pants and hopping towards the front door while trying to get them on.

By the time I got the door open I wasn't sure what I expected, but it certainly wasn't what I got. At first I thought it was a child, a young teen maybe, and it took me a minute to realize it was a man. He wasn't any taller than Doralice and looked to be maybe twenty-five. "Mr. Maverick?" he asked. "I'm Pauly Wilcox. Miss Doralice told me to come early, but she didn't say what time."

"You coulda waited until the sun was completely up," I sort of snarled at the poor man before I heard Doralice behind me.

"That's my fault, Bart. Come in, Pauly, don't stand out there on the doorstep. Bart, put some coffee on, would you?"

"Can I put a shirt on first?" I asked. I didn't wait for an answer, just headed for the bedroom. I grabbed last night's shirt and returned to the kitchen. Doralice and Pauly were seated at the table, already discussing what needed to be done out back.

I made coffee and listened to the two of them talking. Evidently this wasn't the first conversation they'd had about what to build and how to build it. From the sound of everything, my input wasn't needed, and I just stood there and waited for the coffee to be done. When it was I poured them both a cup and headed back to bed. "Honey, don't you wanna be in on this?" Doralice asked sweetly.

"No," I told her. "From the sound of everything, you two have it under control. Just don't spend all our money buildin' it. Pauly, sorry for growlin' at ya. Doralice, I'll see you later." And I went back to the bedroom and closed the door. I no longer cared if I ever had eggs for breakfast again or not.


	3. Once and Again

Chapter 3 – Once and Again

I knocked on Maude's door when I went in that afternoon. She looked up and smiled and waved me in. "Bart, honey, what can I do for you?"

I sat down and cleared my throat. "I got a question for you, Maude, if you don't mind answerin'."

"Sure, handsome. Whatta you need to know?"

"Tell me about Pauly Wilcox."

She smiled again. "That must mean you finally got Willoughby to sell you the property."

"Yeah, and I paid more than it was worth, but it made Doralice happy. Now, this Pauly fella . . . "

"He's a bit of an odd character."

"I don't care if he's odd or not. I wanna know if he's as good as your daughter seems to think he is."

Maude gave me a strange look, but I probably shouldn't blame her. There was a tone of . . . I'm not sure what in my voice. Anger? Distrust? Jealousy?

"He's great when it comes to buildin' things. And he and Doralice became fast friends. But that's all they became."

"I didn't mean it like that, Maude. I just meant . . . I don't know what I meant."

"He's got a lot of ideas, and he likes to run 'em by Doralice. And for some reason, she likes to listen to them. But whatever he's gonna do for you, he'll do it right. And you don't ever have to worry about him disappearing into a bottle on Saturday night. Anything else?"

I shook my head. "Nope. I just wanted to make sure he knew what he was doin'."

"You don't hafta worry about that. Anytime I need somethin' done around here I get Pauly to handle it for me."

"Thanks, Maude." I got up to leave before I made a bigger fool out of myself.

"She's excited about the chickens, Bart, not Pauly."

I nodded and went to my office. I wanted to go over the latest inventory figures from Randy before I went out on the floor tonight, but I hadn't been looking them over for more than five minutes when Doralice turned up at my door.

"Where'd you go after lunch today?"

"Oh, I forgot to tell you. I went down to get us a permanent corner of the livery for Blue, Candy, Nevin and the buggy." Candy was Doralice's horse, Nevin our buggy horse, and I hadn't gotten anything but temporary 'lodging' when I moved in with Doralice. It was time they had stalls of their own, and this was the first chance I'd gotten to take care of it. "Did I miss somethin'?"

"Yes. Pauly came by with the plans for the chicken coop and wanted your approval on them."

"Sorry, blue eyes. Were you happy with what he proposed?"

"Yes."

"Then tell him to go ahead with it. I'm sure whatever you wanted will be fine."

She looked relieved. "Good. I was afraid you wouldn't like what he wanted to build."

"Honey, if it's alright with you, then it's alright with me."

"I thought . . . never mind. And he can get the supplies and lumber at Freeley's Emporium?"

"Sure. Whatever he needs. I'll take care of it."

"Bart . . . what did you think of Pauly?"

I thought it best to be honest. "Little bit of an odd fellow, ain't he?"

"Maybe. But he's good at what he does, and he's my friend. I'd hate to think that the man I love doesn't like him."

"It has nothin' to do with not likin' him, Doralice. He shoulda had enough sense not to show up that early in the mornin'." That was the wrong thing to say, because I could tell she wasn't happy with me. But it was the truth.

"So you're really upset with me, and not Pauly."

"I'm not upset with either one of you."

"But you were."

I didn't answer, and when I looked up she was gone. I had the feelin' we'd just had our first fight.

XXXXXXXX

It was obvious that I was right, because Doralice avoided me the rest of the night. When it was time to close up she was in her office instead of behind the bar, and I stopped to let her know it was time to go home. "Closin' time, blue eyes. You ready?"

"Uh, no. I'll be home later."

I didn't move from her doorway. "No, ma'am. You may be mad at me but I'm not lettin' you walk home by yourself. Whatever you hafta do will wait until tomorrow."

She didn't argue, just got up and left the office, closing the door. Randy was already gone and I followed Doralice onto the boardwalk, locking the outside doors behind us. She started to walk ahead and I had to run to catch up with her.

"I didn't dislike Pauly."

"But you didn't like him, either."

"We got off on the wrong foot. I'll take care of it when he comes over next time."

"Monday. He'll be there to start everything Monday."

"Alright, Monday. You gonna be mad at me until then?" She stopped walkin' and looked at me, and that was her mistake. She let me make puppy-dog eyes at her, and the next thing I knew she was giggling. "Does that mean I'm forgiven?"

She nodded and snuggled up to me, and I was sure glad that was over. "I can't stay mad at you when you look like that."

"I know. But I really didn't mean to upset you. And if Pauly Wilcox is your friend, then I'll make sure he's my friend, too." I leaned down and kissed her nose. "That's where I left off this morning."

She smiled up at me and all was right with the world again. "I know."


	4. Mother Hen

Chapter 4 – Mother Hen

Three weeks later we had a fenced in yard and chickens everywhere. The coop was almost finished, and Lucy had learned the difference between dinner and chicks. Doralice turned into an expert on hens and knew exactly who would provide us with eggs and who would eventually furnish dinner.

Pauly Wilcox had become as much of a fixture around our house as Ana Sofia. All I asked was that he not show up until nine in the morning, and he was welcome to join us for coffee or breakfast, whichever he preferred. I wasn't sure if we were ever gonna be good friends, but we'd found a kind of easy peace, and at least we didn't aggravate each other the way Bret and Buckley did.

I had to admit, Pauly did good work. Everything was strong and solid, built the way things should be built. And he was dependable. If he was supposed to be someplace at a certain time, you can bet that he'd be there. He had a lot of ideas that some folks might call unusual, but have proven to be practical over the years. I didn't figure all this out by myself; some of it took me quite a while to realize. But then as my brother would love to remind me, I was a slow learner.

Once the chicken coop was finished and we were afforded the luxury of eggs on a regular basis, discussions began about building additional rooms onto the house. Like I said before, I thought that two more rooms would be sufficient; Doralice wanted four. After a lot of discussion we decided to add two now, with the possibility of more later if needed. The design and implementation required a lot of discussions between Doralice and Pauly, and I stayed out of it all. As long as the rooms could be used as bedrooms, I didn't much care what they looked like. Consequently, I had more free time than I'd expected to have, and I found myself gettin' more and more involved in the day-to-day operations of the saloon.

Maude was happy to have me there. The more I learned from her about how this particular saloon operated, the more she depended on me, and the more time she could take off. I was sure that Maudie still loved the saloon and the idea of owning it, but she'd worked long years at keeping the place going, and she'd be the first to admit that sometimes she was just plumb worn out.

One evenin' when business was slow and I was playin' poker for myself, I ended up at a table with Jesse Martin, a local rancher, and we started talkin' about Arabian horses and cross-breeding. Our discussion sparked my long-dormant interest in raising horses, and I began to wonder if I'd ever be able to do anything about it. Bret had been interested, too, and I began to hope that one day when he and Ginny settled down, we might investigate horse ranching. It was an idea that had quite a while to lie dormant in my head, but it would never completely die.

Spring turned into summer, then summer into fall, and we hadn't seen much of Bret or Ginny since the weddin'. Last I heard they were in Dallas, so needless to say I was surprised one afternoon when I heard a familiar voice and looked up to see Brother Bret standin' in the doorway. "Don't you have a home anymore?" he asked.

"Bret!" It only took me a moment to get up from my desk and throw my arms around my brother. "I thought you were in Dallas."

"I was until I got kicked out of there," came his semi-disgruntled reply. "Do you know . . . no, of course you wouldn't know. You're a newlywed."

"Do I know what?" I had the feeling I was gonna find out pretty quick. My brother was just bursting at the seams with the need to tell me something.

"Do you know what happens when they get mad at you? They quit talkin', that's what they do. They won't even answer a direct question. And when you try to explain what happened they just look at you like you've lost your mind."

''Messed up, did ya?" was about all I could ask.

"Big time, and it was over somethin' stupid and small. But I got her distracted and Stansbury was there, and he thought it best if I leave for a while. So I told Ginny to come get me when she's done."

"Which means we have a houseguest for an unspecified length of time." I was chuckling even as I said it.

"Well, yeah. Unless you don't want me."

"Oh no, I welcome the distraction. But some things have changed since you were here last."

"Like you at the saloon when you should be at home?"

"Temporary inconvenience. Sit down and I'll tell you all about it." I thought for a minute and then asked, "Have you eaten lunch yet?"

"Is that an invitation?" he grinned at me.

"Yes, sir. I'll even buy."

"Then by all means, let's go."

"Mamacita's okay with you?"

"Always."

On the way out I stopped at the bar. We had a new bartender, Willie Gannon, and Randy was showin' him where everything was. "I'll be back after lunch, Randy."

"Okay, Bart. We'll be fine."

That was good to hear. Poor Randy was about to work himself to death and he needed help desperately, so when Willie showed up lookin' for a job, he got hired. Even though he had experience, he still needed to learn the ropes.

"Maude's gettin' that busy?" Bret asked.

"Yes and no. Maude's workin' fewer hours than she used to, and Doralice is tied up with our expansion."

"Expansion?"

"We're addin' onto the house."

"Addin' onto the house, huh? Is Doralice . . . ?"

I cut him off quickly. "No. But we wanted to get it done while we had the time and the money. And she's real involved with Pauly."

"Okay, I give. Who's Pauly?"

We'd gotten to Mamacita's and there was one empty table in the back of the café, which I hurried and sat down at. It didn't take long to order and I was explaining Pauly to my brother. Which, of course, meant I had to explain Ana Sofia. And the backyard, the fence, the chicken coop and chickens, Lucy's education in what was permissible to eat, and the two additional rooms. "That's why you caught me at the saloon this early. It's kinda noisy at the house during the day right now."

"And Pauly Wilcox is the only one workin' on this expansion? Is he that good?"

I nodded. "Yeah, Doralice was right, Pauly knows what he's doin'. So you're welcome to stay with us as long as you'd like, but come nine o'clock in the mornin', it gets loud."

"Hmm. Loud might be preferable to silent."

"What did you do to Ginny, anyway?"

"I . . . oh, never mind. Just eat your lunch."

It was almost an hour later before we got to the house. Pauly must have been eatin' lunch, too, because it was quiet when we got there. Ana Sofia was busy in the kitchen washin' dishes and blowing soap bubbles at Lucy. I made the introductions and then asked where Doralice and Pauly were.

"They went to Freeley's to get something for the construction. I don't remember what. And Mr. Freeley ordered a special type of chicken for Misses Maverick."

"A special type of chicken? Now what's she gonna raise out there?" I turned back to Bret. "You wanna see everything?"

"Sure. Let's have a look at this chicken farm you've got goin'."

We went out the back door, and Lucy quickly followed. "Lucy's gotten big. She eatin' your chicks?"

"Nope," I told him. "Watch this."

Sure enough, Lucy walked over to the corner of the yard and lay down. Within just a couple minutes she was surrounded by half a dozen baby chicks who cuddled up next to her, and the whole bunch settled down to take a nap.

"I'll be damned," Bret remarked, and we both started to laugh. "Doralice teach her that?"

"I have no idea. I have to say, she's every bit as talented as Melody was."

Bret inspected the chicken coop and seemed to be impressed. "Maybe you'da taken better care of the chickens if we'd had somethin' like that."

There were voices inside, and we went back in. Doralice came running over to Bret and gave him a big hug and kiss; Pauly was nowhere in sight. "My favorite brother-in-law! Did you just get in?"

"I did. You look fabulous, Misses Maverick."

Pauly came through the front door, carrying a large box. "Bret, this is Pauly Wilcox. Pauly, my brother Bret."

I could tell from Bret's expression that Pauly sure wasn't what he expected. He hadn't been what I expected, either, but he'd certainly proven his worth. "Pleased to meet you, Mister Bret. I've heard a lot about you from Miss Doralice."

"They've been workin' together on the coop and the rooms," I explained.

"Well, let's see these rooms, if that's alright with you, Mister Wilcox."

"Sure, follow me." Out the front door and around the side of the house we went, to see our new addition. Even I was impressed, and I'd seen them in the daylight just the week before. Pauly Wilcox had proven to me that he was a valuable addition to the town of Little Bend. And I could tell from the expression on Bret's face that he thought so, too.

"That's some damn fine work, Mister Wilcox. This town is lucky to have you as a resident."

Out of the corner of my eye I could see my wife beaming with pride. She looked over at me and smiled, and I understood for the first time what a great mother she was gonna be. I had a lot to learn from her.


	5. I Have Been Changed

Chapter 5 – I Have Been Changed

I knew Bret was up, I could hear him out in the kitchen. Sounded like he was tryin' to make coffee, but I wasn't about to go help him. Me and Doralice were busy at the moment, and I intended us to stay that way. Unfortunately, my brother had other ideas.

"Bart." Sounded like he was standing right outside the bedroom door.

"Go away." He must have taken my advice because I heard him back out in the kitchen again.

"Lover." That certainly hadn't come from the kitchen; it was whispered in my ear just as I began kissing my wife's throat.

"What?"

"You have to go help him."

"No, I don't." I resumed kissing her, working my way up to her lips. She responded, and I managed to ignore Bret for another five minutes, until Doralice rolled away from me and towards the edge of the bed.

"Yes, you do. He's just gonna make noise in the kitchen until we're up, anyway."

"If he does this every mornin' he's here I'm gonna kill him."

"No, you won't."

I couldn't argue with that one. "Alright then, I'll put him on the first stage back to Dallas."

"Then Arthur would kill him."

I sighed. There was no use, I wasn't gonna win this argument. I grabbed her right hand and kissed her fingertips, then got out of bed and pulled a robe on over my nightshirt. "Why doesn't the man just settle down and marry the woman?" I muttered as I left our bedroom.

My brother was standing in the kitchen, trying to look innocent. "Did I wake you? I'm sorry."

I glared at him, just about the way I had when we were kids and he got me out of bed, and shook my head. "No, you're not. And if it weren't for Doralice, you'd be on your way back to Dallas right now."

"Aw, you wouldn't do that to me, would you?"

No, I wouldn't, and he knew it was nothing more than an idle threat. But there had to be a reason why it was so important to him that I was awake and up. "Is there somethin' botherin' you?" I asked while I made coffee. Bret had taken a seat at the table and was idly petting Lucy, who'd climbed into his lap.

"How's married life?"

I answered him as honestly as I could. "It's been great so far. Course we've been busy, with the saloon and the construction, but I've got no complaints."

"I was wondering . . ."

That's where he stopped, and I stood there waitin' for him to finish. Eventually I prompted him, "Wonderin' about what?"

Lucy got down and he finally finished his thought. "Wonderin' if bein' married changes you."

A concept I hadn't yet considered. But it didn't take much to have an answer for him. "Do I seem different to you?"

I poured the coffee and carried it to the table. He was havin' a difficult time making up his mind, and I had half of my coffee gone before he gave me a reply of any kind. "Yes . . . and no."

"How so?" Now Bret had my curiosity peaked, and I wanted to know what he was thinking.

"Lots of ways. You're more responsible, that's for sure. You've taken on way more work than Maude ever expected you to, and you've become her right hand. That means a lot to her. And you do everything you can to help Doralice. I remember when you'd skip breakfast just because you didn't wanna gather eggs in the mornin'. Now you do it without prompting or complaint."

"Hmmm. Never thought about that stuff. Somebody's gotta do it, and Doralice ain't livin' here by herself."

"See? That's what I mean. More responsible. There's somethin' else. You think about somethin' before you do it. You're not as impulsive as you were when we were kids, or even in the past few years. You look at a problem and try to come up with a solution before you act. I guess that means you've grown up. A lot."

I got up and poured both of us more coffee. "Thanks. I think." I heard the chickens squawking and knew they needed to be fed. "Speakin' of eggs, do you want some this mornin'?"

Bret chuckled. "See, that's what I mean. Responsible. Yeah, eggs would be great."

I went out the back door and took care of the chickens' breakfast, then gathered eggs for ours. By the time I got back inside, Bret had started cooking bacon and heating up the leftover biscuits. "See, you'd make a great wife for Ginny."

"Yeah, maybe not. What if I'm not me anymore?" There was something unusual in his voice . . . fear, maybe. Of marriage?

"Is that what this is all about? You think you're gonna turn into a whole other person or somethin'?"

"The thought has crossed my mind."

"And you think I've changed?"

He nodded. "All I've seen so far is good . . . nothin' bad. But that doesn't mean . . . oh, I ain't sure what it means. What if you wanna pick up and go play poker somewhere? You can't just go, can you?"

That made me laugh, and I sent him to the table with fresh coffee for both of us. Doralice came out of the bedroom in a dressing gown and robe, still looking sleepy-eyed, and I asked her if she wanted breakfast. When she told me no I sent her back to bed. At least one of us should get some rest.

As I finished cookin' our food I tried to answer his question. "I can go, but I have to make sure that the saloon's covered, and that Doralice knows about my leavin'. If that makes me different than I was before, you're probably right. I have to think about somebody besides myself now. But I'm still Bart Maverick. Who do you think you're gonna turn into?"

"I don't know," Bret admitted. "Why can't things just stay the way they are now?"

"I don't know," was my answer, too. "Is Ginny pushin' to get married?"

He shook his head as he dug into the food I'd set in front of him. "No. At least I don't think so." After a bite or two he looked at me like he'd just discovered something wonderful. "I forgot how good you are with breakfast."

I laughed a little. I think maybe he was trying to change the subject. "It's one of my many hidden talents." We ate in silence for a few minutes before anybody spoke again.

"I made her mad."

"Who, Ginny?"

"Yeah."

"You already told me that. She quit talkin' to you. What did you do?"

"One of Arthur's other agents is gettin' hitched – a friend of Ginny's. She said somethin' about weddings and I told her I didn't see the point."

I almost choked on my eggs. "And you don't know why she's mad at you?"

He shook his head. "She's said the same thing to me before. Why is it different when I say it to her?"

That one I really couldn't answer. "I ain't sure, but it is. The best thing you coulda done was shut your mouth." I put my fork down before I asked him the next question. "Didn't do that, did you?"

"No."

"What else did you say?"

"That . . . that as long as two people were happy together, why get married?"

"So you basically told her that you didn't want to marry her?"

The look on his face was pitiful. It was like he'd just realized why what he'd said had made her mad. Or hurt, or unwanted. Or all three.

"Uh . . . yeah, I guess I did."

"And you need me to explain to you why she quit talkin' to you?"

We were both done with breakfast, and I gathered the plates. Doralice reappeared, fully dressed this time, and came into the kitchen to take the cup of coffee I was handing her. "Better get dressed, handsome, Ana Sofia and Pauly will be here soon."

I kissed her on the cheek as I walked past her. "I am so glad I married you."

Doralice gave me a big smile. "Me, too."

I went to the bedroom, whistling. Yes sir, my brother was right. Marriage had changed me. And I was damn glad.


	6. Gentle Persuasion

Chapter 6 – Gentle Persuasion

Life was changing rapidly. Bret spent a few days with us and then rode out to stay with Pappy and Ben. Pauly was makin' good progress with the addition to the house, and Doralices' chickens were about to populate the entire town.

Cristian got hired for a big property rights case in Waco and was gonna be gone for several weeks, so Maude decided to go with him. I wasn't surprised when I went in the next afternoon and she wanted to see me. But I was surprised at what she asked me to do. "You know we're gonna be gone for a while, and I need you to do me a favor."

I just assumed Doralice would run the place and I'd fill in wherever necessary. So I didn't hesitate to agree to whatever Maude needed. "Sure. Anything I can."

I didn't expect what came next. "I want you to run the saloon while I'm gone."

"Me?"

"Yes, you."

"But Doralice . . . "

"Is involved in other things. It's gonna be a while before your addition is finished, and she's too busy with that. Besides, someday you're gonna own this place, so you might as well start runnin' it now. If Bret's still in town you might have him help out as Floor Man. But I want you in charge."

I looked across the desk at the woman that had become my mother-in-law, and she was smiling at me. "Alright. When are you two leavin' town?"

"On Monday. There's just a few things we need to go over before I leave. And I want you to go down to the bank with me so they understand you're gonna be payin' bills and wages. You know most of what goes on around here anyway. Oh, and Willie is gonna take over some hours from Randy at the bar. So keep an eye on him and see how he does on his own. If there's anything else, we can go over it tomorrow."

"Maude . . . thanks for the confidence."

She laughed that wonderful laugh. "Handsome, I've had confidence in you since the first time I saw you. I just never thought . . . "

And we both laughed.

XXXXXXXX

I don't think James Frederick Johnson was expecting to see me when I walked into his bank with Maude the next afternoon. Of course, you have to understand the relationship that existed between his oldest son, Jamie Johnson, and me when we were in school together.

We were friends for a long time . . . not great friends, but school friends. And we probably would have stayed that way if it weren't for a girl named Trudy Wentmore. Jamie and me were ten or eleven, and Trudy was a year or two older. Not only was she smart, she had the prettiest smile I'd ever seen. And we both mooned over her like newborn puppies.

Things did not go well when Trudy picked me as her spelling bee partner. By the time the competition was over, Jamie had turned into a mortal enemy. One day on the way home he heaved a rock at me, and we proceeded to beat the livin' daylights out of each other. Pappy demanded that Jamie be kicked out of school for startin' the fight, and the town council suspended him for two weeks. Which would have been real unusual if it weren't for the fact that my former friend had been in trouble on and off for quite a while.

When Jamie returned to the classroom, we avoided each other at all costs. His father, who was only a clerk in the bank at the time, got passed over for a promotion and blamed it on his son's fight with 'that ruffian,' Bart Maverick. I spent the better part of my years growing into adulthood by avoiding both of the Johnson men whenever possible.

So for me to have evolved into a respectable citizen was almost more than James Johnson could bear. And when I showed up with Maude, I got the distinct impression that things were not going to turn out well.

"Mrs. de la Torres, what can I do for you today?"

"Mr. Johnson, my husband is going to be trying a case in Waco for several weeks, and I'm going with him. In my absence, I have appointed Mr. Maverick as manager of the business and all accounts associated with it."

Johnson looked like he had been stricken with some terrible malady. "Mr. . . . Maverick? Mr. Bart Maverick?"

Maude looked at me, then looked back at Johnson. She had an amused expression on her face. "You mean the Bart Maverick standing right behind me? My son-in-law? Yes, Mr. Johnson, I mean Bart Maverick. I assume you have no problem with my choice of manager?"

Johnson attempted to assume a benign expression and failed miserably. I'd love to play poker with the man. "Um, and Mr. Maverick is going to be in charge of your accounts? All of them? And he is authorized to dispense funds and pay outstanding bills? And there is no one else to be consulted?"

"That's correct, Mr. Johnson. Bart has absolute control when it comes to any of those matters. If he isn't available you may consult with my daughter, Mrs. Maverick. But Bart has complete authority."

The bank president looked positively stricken. His attempt at a handshake with me would have been pitiful, were it not so laughable. At least it was amusing to me. James Frederick Johnson appeared to be in extreme pain as we shook hands and he explained that the bank needed my signature on file to approve payment requests.

Once I'd given the clerk my signature Maude wanted to make sure that Johnson was clear on my position while she was gone. She'd read the disdain and hesitation in his face and voice just like I had, and I don't think she entirely trusted him. "Just so we're perfectly clear, Mr. Johnson . . . Mr. Maverick is the man with authority in my absence."

Johnson nodded politely and did his best not to sneer. "We are clear, Mrs. de la Torres. Mr. Maverick is in charge."

On the way back to the saloon, Maude finally asked the question. "What was that about? Did you take him for all he was worth at poker?"

"Oh, I have no conflict with Mr. Johnson. The problem was with his son, Jamie." As we walked I explained the situation, causing Maude to stop and stare at me.

"Are you serious? After all this time, he still holds it against you?"

"Evidently. I haven't had many dealings with the bank over the years, so my mere presence hasn't continually irritated him. But he sure wasn't a happy man today."

"He'll get over it. Don't let him give you any trouble. You're the man in charge, not Banker Johnson."

XXXXXXXX

Maude and Cristian left for Waco, and things went smoothly for the first week or so. Then we started having problems. I'd authorize a bill to be paid and it didn't happen; I'd make a deposit to the saloon account and it wouldn't get credited for several days. I checked with Doralice and she hadn't heard from the bank, or the banker himself. When I requested the payroll funds and didn't receive them the next day, like we usually did, I knew it was time for a face-to-face meeting with Mr. Bank President.

I dressed deliberately, wanting to look as much like a buttoned-up businessman as I could. Even left my gun and holster in my office, but I did carry the derringer, just to be safe. It was chilly outside, getting on towards Christmas, and I found myself rubbing my hands together as I entered the bank. Johnson was standing at his office door, and I hurried towards him before he could escape. He got my cold hand to shake, and I undoubtedly smirked just a little.

"Mr. Maverick . . ." That probably stuck in his throat. "What brings you in today?"

"Can we talk in your office, Mr. Johnson?"

"Certainly."

I followed him in and took a seat in front of his grand desk. "We seem to be having some communication problems, Mr. Johnson, and I've come over to see if we can clear them up."

"What kind of communication problems?"

"You're ignoring Mrs. de la Torres' instructions."

"I haven't the vaguest notion what you're talking about, Mr. Maverick."

"Don't you?"

I needed to do something to wipe the smug look off Johnson's face, so I reached into my coat pocket and made him think I was gonna pull a gun. Instead I withdrew a handkerchief, and the bank president still turned as white as a ghost.

"The bills. The deposits. The payroll." I stopped and gave him my best imitation of the Beauregard Maverick glare. It's nowhere near as effective as the original, but it served its purpose. "Ring any bells for you, Mr. Johnson?" Minutes passed while he decided on the safest course of action. Would he dare risk alienating one of his best customers for some long-awaited retaliation?

While I sat and smiled, Johnson made his choice and rang a small bell sitting on his desk. The teller came scurrying in and was quickly pounced on. "What's going on out there, Avery? Mr. Maverick is experiencing delays with the saloon's business. See to it that all transactions are processed immediately, and prepare the payroll for Mr. Maverick right now."

Poor Avery, who didn't have the faintest idea what the bank president was blathering about, looked at me and nodded. "Yes, sir. Right away, sir. Mr. Maverick, if you'll be so kind as to follow me, I will have your payroll request in just a few minutes."

I gave James Frederick Johnson the faintest smile and told him politely, "See how easy that was? As long as it doesn't happen again, there's no reason for Mrs. de la Torres to know about any of this." I left his office and followed Avery back to the teller's window.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Maverick. I didn't know the request for payroll had come in."

"That's alright, Avery. I'm sure it just slipped Mr. Johnson's mind. Could you put that in a satchel for me, please?" Five minutes later I was on my way back to the saloon.

"Get everything straightened out?" Doralice asked as I passed her office.

"Yep, it worked out just fine. Wanna help me get this ready for everybody?" We put it all together in about an hour and had everything in order pretty quick. Payroll would be today, on time, and I didn't even hafta draw a gun. This was a lot easier than gettin' shot at while playin' crime boss. I'd learned a valuable lesson in 'gentlemanly' persuasion.


	7. The Angel

Chapter 7 – The Angel

Like I said before, Christmas was rapidly approaching, and I needed it to be special. After all, it was our first Christmas together as husband and wife. I knew exactly what I wanted to get Doralice, and the only place I had any hope of finding it was the store in Claytonville where we'd bought our wedding rings. Then there was the problem of how to get to Claytonville without taking Doralice with me or having to lie about why I was going.

Bless Maude, she came to the rescue. There was a new liquor salesman in Claytonville who was anxious to expand into Little Bend, and he'd made a proposal to Maude that could save her considerable money. It was as good an excuse as any, so one mornin' when my woman was tied up with Pauly and the house, I took off for Claytonville.

Fred Sanders, the liquor man, was offering a good deal if Maude would give him a try, and we worked out a ninety-day contract to see how it went. Soon as we were finished, I scurried over to the 'jewelry' store and began my search. Much to my surprise, they had exactly what I was lookin' for.

It was a beautiful gold chain for her neck, sturdy but as delicate as she was, with a solid gold heart on the end of it. It matched her wedding ring almost exactly, and I was lucky to find it. And I didn't quibble over the price; I just wanted to give her something half as beautiful as she was.

Maude was impressed with the new contract but more impressed with the necklace. "It's stunning, Bart, and I'm sure she'll love it. Has she started decorating yet?"

"Decorating? More than just a Christmas tree?" I must have sounded surprised, but I hadn't been around much at Christmas in Little Bend since we were kids and I had no conception of what Maude meant.

"That must mean no. You're in for quite a surprise, my friend. Prepare yourself for a Christmas explosion."

"Are we gonna have enough room for Bret and Ginny?" Ginny had come through town about a month ago, and my brother had apparently made amends, because they'd left Little Bend for parts unknown. Together. I'd just gotten a telegram from Bret asking if he and Ginny could spend Christmas with us, and if the answer was yes, they'd be home no later than December twenty-third. Of course the answer was yes, and I'd wired back immediately, to Brownsville, Texas.

"Is Pauly gonna be done with the addition by that time?" Maude asked.

We'd just had a discussion about that very thing yesterday, and I was told it would be completed within the week. "Yes, according to Pauly. Then we gotta get beds and furniture in there. It'll be close, but your daughter's determined they'll be able to stay in one of the new rooms."

"To answer your original question, then . . . as long as the rooms are finished, you'll have a place for your brother and Ginny."

I had visions of . . . I don't know what I had visions of for the house. But I was suddenly filled with the dread that Christmas was gonna move in and I was gonna hafta move out. I must have sighed, because Maude reached across her desk and patted my hand. "It's not that bad, Bart. Actually it's kinda nice. There's garlands and candles and pretty Christmas linens . . . you'll get used to it."

When Doralice got to the saloon that evening, I asked her about Christmas. More specifically, decorating the house for Christmas. She gave me kind of an odd look before she gave me her answer. "You've been talkin' to Maude, haven't you? She thinks I decorate to excess, so I'm sure that's what she told you. I bet Beauregard never did any decorating at all, did he? Did you even have a tree?"

"Sure, we had a tree. Except the year Momma died. But that was about all. Didn't see any need for much else."

We were in my office, and quicker than you could say 'Bart Maverick' my arms were full of beautiful, blue-eyed blonde. "Just think, we can snuggle by the fireplace, drinking hot chocolate and looking at the decorations. Then we could . . . " Doralice kept talking, but all I could think of was making love to my wife in front of a roaring fire. That was her point, of course, and I no longer cared where or how or how much she spread Christmas. "Doesn't that sound wonderful?" she finished, and I nodded. It was all I was capable of.

XXXXXXXX

Pauly stuck to the schedule and the addition of the two rooms was completed the following week. The builder and my wife had been workin' on furniture for the bedrooms and got everything moved in three days after completion. Now we had a place for my brother and his beauty, and we even had rooms for Pappy, Ben, and Lily Mae to stay over.

Doralice was off one afternoon, and when I came home the next morning I wasn't sure I was in the right house. We were still without a tree, but everything else sparkled and shined and reminded me it was Christmas time. I'd wondered if I would be overwhelmed with her love of the holiday, but I have to admit it was actually . . . nice. Comfortable. And it made me remember that I wasn't alone anymore.

Maude did something unusual – she closed the saloon on December twenty-third, and it stayed that way until the day after Christmas. It was the first year there was more than just her and Doralice, and she wanted time to spend with family. So when Bret and Ginny arrived on the afternoon stage, we were there to meet them.

I don't know exactly what Bret had said or done to return to Ginny's good graces, but they were back to being a happy pair, obviously in love. A little shocked to see the two of us in the middle of the day.

"What'd you do, quit work?" Bret asked as we gathered their baggage.

"Didn't have to," Doralice answered. "Maude did the unthinkable. She closed the saloon. Said Benny could have all the business."

"Good for her. So everybody can be together on Christmas," Ginny observed.

"Exactly. And we're almost ready for it. Except . . . " Doralice began.

"You and me have to go find a tree," I finished for her, directing my remark right at my brother.

"Of course we do. What about Pappy and Ben and Lily Mae? Are they comin' to town?" Bret asked.

"Yep. That's one of the reasons we wanted the house finished. There's enough room for them to stay with us, and the whole family can be together Christmas day."

"And Maude and Cristian, of course," my wife added.

"Well, certainly. They're family," Bret needlessly reminded us. "When are we gonna go get that tree?"

"Soon as we get you settled at the house."

That didn't take long. Impressed by both the new rooms and the Christmas explosion, Ginny was particularly delighted by Lucy and her brood of baby chicks. "That cat needs a friend," she declared, and I had the feeling we were in for an addition to the family.

I loaded my brother in the buggy and we went hunting for an appropriate tree, down by the river, of course. Seems like that's where we'd gotten all our Christmas trees, including the one Bret found the year after we lost Momma. Most of our conversation surrounded him and Ginny, and the state of their relationship. "Glad you two got everything worked out. You manage to explain the marriage remarks?"

"Just told her I was stupid."

That caused me to chuckle. "Didn't she already know that?"

"I'm sure she did. I tried to explain myself – don't know how good a job I did. But she said she understood what I meant."

"Just be glad the woman loves you."

"I am, Bart, I am."

We found the perfect tree and were in the process of chopping it down when the subject of my wife's Christmas preoccupation came up. "Maude warned me . . . sort of. And I was real worried at first. But it's kinda nice when you get over the shock."

"Ginny liked it. Pappy'll probably die laughin'."

I shook my head. I didn't believe that for one minute. "No, he won't. He thinks everything she does is wonderful. There's only one thing that could make him happier."

Bret grinned. "A baby Maverick. When's that gonna happen, little brother?"

"When it happens." Bret wasn't the first one to bring it up, but it was the first time the question had bothered me. I loved kids, and the thought of having one or more with Doralice was something that we both wanted . . . but it would happen when it happened, and not before.

We didn't talk much for a while. Bret had hit a sore spot for some reason, and he knew it. We were almost home before I brought up the subject of that tree we snuck out and chopped down.

"Remember how we decorated it?"

Bret nodded. "With Momma's ornaments. And our deck of cards."

"And I was too afraid to go into Pappy's room to get the ornaments."

"You were only six," Bret reminded me.

"I wonder whatever happened to the angel that Momma and Pappy made for the top of the tree?"

Bret sighed. "Probably got lost somewhere over the years."

I pulled the buggy up in front of the house so that we could unload the tree. "I sure hope not."

Momma's angel was forgotten until later that night when the four of us had eaten dinner and were about to decorate the tree. Doralice had all sorts of ornaments, some of them quite intricate looking, and we drank coffee and ate apple pie while we turned the little Virginia Pine into something quite elegant. We laughed and reminisced, and when we were almost finished Doralice produced a deck of cards with yarn threaded through them, and we had an excellent garland.

"Beauregard told me the story of the Christmas tree decorated with your mother's ornaments and your cards," my wife of not quite six months explained.

"There's only one thing missin'," I started, but there was a twinkle in Doralice's eyes that I just happened to catch. She hastily left the room and went into our bedroom, and emerged a few moments later with something in her hands. Something neither of the Maverick boys expected to see again . . . Momma's angel.

"Where . . . "

"How . . . "

"From your pappy," she explained. "He's had her all these years, and he wanted to make sure we had her for our first married Christmas. Especially since everyone would be here."

I took the ornament gently from my wife's hands, and together Bret and me mounted her on the tree top. Doralice was right. Now everyone would be here for Christmas.


	8. New Year, Old Trouble

Chapter 8 – New Year, Old Trouble

Pappy, Ben and Lily Mae came to Little Bend on Christmas Eve, and the whole clan went to Maude and Cristian's for supper. What a rowdy, loud bunch we are when we're all together. And what a great time everyone seemed to have!

Pappy and Ben came back to spend the night at our house; Lily Mae decided to stay over at Maude's. I suspect she'd spent enough Christmas Eve's with the Maverick men and thought it would be delightful to have a woman to talk to for a change. I can't say that I blamed her.

That, of course, meant that the Maverick house was just about full. When we'd all turned in for the night, I lay in our bed for a long time with my wife in my arms and thanked God. Too many times I almost slipped away before I ever realized just how much I loved this woman, and how much I wanted to live. But I was still here, and I intended to make the most of everything I had.

We had a glorious day, the Maverick/Donovan/de la Torres family. Doralice loved her new necklace, and in turn she gave me a gold pocket watch, with an inscription of 'Forever Yours, Doralice,' and a small black opal in the center of the face, where the two hands meet. She wanted something to match the cufflinks left to me by my mother, and it did, beautifully. Of course it was over too soon, as every Christmas is; Pappy, Ben and Lily Mae went back to Ben's house, Bret and Ginny stayed with us two more days and left for Topeka.

The end of the year was fast approaching, and that meant New Year's Eve at the saloon. Normally I stayed home and went to bed early; as Pappy always said about playin' poker on Saturday night – no sense dealin' with a bunch of amateurs. Only now I had to.

Nobody had the night off. That meant we had six bartenders, seven saloon girls, six dealers, three croupiers, three 'floaters,' a doorman, Maude, Doralice and me. We hoped it would be enough.

The saloon started filling up around six o'clock. It looked like every cowhand in the entire valley had decided to raise hell at Maude's, and about half of them determined that New Year's Eve gave them a license to cheat. By nine o'clock I'd already asked half a dozen to leave the saloon, and three more that we physically threw out. And that's not counting the cowboys that didn't understand 'Keep your hands off the girls' MEANT 'Keep your hands off the girls.'

Or the bunch from the Winston Bar S Ranch that decided their night on the town allowed them free rein to do anything they could think of. I knew they were gonna be trouble, but it took a little longer than I expected. They'd gathered in the far corner of the poker area, and we quickly learned to keep the girls from going back there. Even when a bartender delivered more liquor he was taking a chance of returning with some kind of battle scars.

I was keeping an eye on one of the roulette wheels around eleven-thirty when I saw Doralice head back to their corner with a bottle and a tray full of glasses. She was absolutely stunning tonight, in a long-sleeved black dress with a low cut neckline and a magnificent silhouette. I wanted to follow her to make sure she was unscathed, but just then we had a disputed win, and I had to settle things before they got out of hand. I didn't hear anything unusual from the Winston tables for a few minutes and assumed Doralice was safely back at the bar . . . until I heard a distinct "Hands off, cowboy." I wasted no time getting to the back of the saloon and found my wife cornered by three of the miscreants. The biggest one had his hands around her left arm and sounded like he was trying to sweet talk her into joining them at their table.

My first instinct was to wade into the group, fists flying, and beat the living daylights out of all three. Considering there were twenty or more of the ranch hands at the surrounding tables, and my main objective was to get Doralice out of there safely, I decided to put some thought into my response.

"Now, boys, don't you know it's impolite to put your hands on the ladies?" I questioned as I pushed my way into the group. Putting my hands gently on my wife's left arm made it easier to pull her away from the cowboys grasp, and as soon as I had her free, I stepped in front of her. "Why don't you go back to your table and I'll have another bottle sent over, on the house?"

The cowboy gave me a look, and I thought for a minute I was gonna have to fight my way out of there, before casually shrugging his shoulders and saying, "Sure. Why not?" I moved aside so Doralice could go back to the bar and had just turned my head when I spotted movement out of the corner of my eye. An unexpected fist caught me on the side of the jaw and staggered me backward, and I instinctively reached for my gun. I didn't know what else was coming, but the cowboy's two friends got their hands on him and pulled him away, apologizing as they propelled him back towards the table. I left the gun in the holster, rubbed my jaw with my other hand, and followed blue eyes back towards the front of the saloon.

"Are you alright?" we asked each other at the same time.

"I am," Doralice answered, as she reached for my jaw. "Let me see that."

"Ouch," was about the only thing I could say when she touched it.

"It's gonna be a beauty. I'm proud of you, you didn't hit him back."

"Too many friends with him. And it woulda cost us too much money."

She stood on tiptoes and kissed my jaw, gently. "I'll make it up to you when we get home."

"Mmmm, that almost makes it worth it. Why'd you go back there, anyway?"

"Everybody else was too busy."

"Next time, send one of the bartenders. You stay safe." I took a good, long look at her. She was so beautiful. "You're too much of a temptation."

A little past midnight Sheriff Dave Parker walked in. "Heard you had a little trouble up here. From the looks of your jaw, I can see just where it landed."

"You're a funny man, Dave Parker," I told him. "What can I do for you?"

"Heard your assailant went unscathed. Wanted to know if it was true."

"If you mean did I beat the crap out of him, the answer's no."

Dave's eyebrow went up about two inches. "Why not?"

"Old age," I told him.

"Do you wanna press charges?"

"What good would that do? Next time he comes in he'd be lookin' for a fight."

"Just wanted to check. How late y'all gonna stay open?"

"Normal time. Four o'clock."

Dave slapped me on the back. "Alright, my friend. Stay safe up here. I'm goin' to the LB Bar to see how many they want thrown in jail."

I began to laugh and realized it still hurt. "Say hello to Ray for me, would ya? And Happy New Year, Sheriff." Dave was an old friend, and he always got a kick out of it when I called him Sheriff.

"Happy New Year to you and the misses." Dave looked at me and grinned. "That still sounds strange." He shook his head. "Guess I'll get used to it someday."

The Bar S group was the last to leave, and it was closer to five in the mornin' than four by the time we got 'em all out. Good thing Maude wasn't opening the saloon until late on New Year's Day, because the Mavericks were gonna need sleep.

Doralice and me were on the way home when several of the Bar S hands rode by, and the cowboy that punched me was one of them. He rode past at first, then turned around in the street and came back, stopping about six feet in front of us. "Well, lookee here. It's Mr. Boss Man and his whore. No wonder he was so particular about us keepin' hands off. Don't want her sullied by nobody else."

There was a doorway to our right and I backed Doralice into it and stood in front of her, covering her completely. "Go on home, cowboy, you've done enough damage for one day."

"I don't think so, Boss Man, I think it's time for us to have our fun."

I knew exactly what they intended to do, and it sent a shiver up my spine. Because it was still dark, I was able to ease my gun out of its holster, and I made sure the cowboy saw it and heard me pull the hammer back. "Go home, or so help me God, I'll kill you where you sit."

He turned his head slightly, to another rider on his left. "He's gonna shoot me over a whore."

"She's my wife," I spit out venomously. "You wanna stay alive, you'll leave now."

Not much scares Doralice; not after what she went through with the Federales in Mexico; but I could feel her trembling behind me. "Bart, be careful," she whispered shakily. "There's too many of them."

"I only hafta kill one," I said loud enough to be heard. I wanted to be sure the troublemaker knew I meant him.

"Come on, Dale," called one of the other men. "He ain't worth it. You raised enough hell for one night."

Dale thought about it for a minute, then decided his friend was right. "Some other time, pardner," he told me, and they all rode off for home.

"Are you alright?" I questioned Doralice as I took her in my arms.

"Yes," she whispered shakily.

Dave Parker came running across the street. "You both alright?"

I nodded. "I shoulda let you throw him in jail."

"That was Dale Roberts. I'll go out there tomorrow and raise hell with his boss."

"No. With him, not his boss. I don't wanna give him any more ammunition. But if he shows up in Maude's again . . . " I stopped and picked Doralice up in my arms. She protested, but it wasn't that far to the house, and she was in no shape to walk the rest of the way. "Make sure he stays away from us, Dave. I mean it. And make sure he knows it."

Dave nodded and followed us home as a precaution.

When we got in the house I set Doralice on the settee and poured her a brandy. By the time she finished it she'd stopped shaking. "I shoulda put a bullet in him the first time."

"No, Bart, you did the right thing. I don't think he'll come back. The only kind of courage he's got is the liquid kind."

"I don't want you out on the floor again when there's that kind of crowd."

She nodded and tried to smile, at least attempting to agree with me . . . for now. I picked her up and carried her into the bedroom, and we welcomed in the new year by falling asleep in each other's arms. I hoped it was the last time we saw anything of Dale Roberts.


	9. Fort Worth and the Chickens

Chapter 9 – Fort Worth and the Chickens

The first few months of the new year went by in a hurry, and before I knew it, it was time for spring roundup. As always, business was slow for a week or two, gradually gettin' back to normal levels as the drives came to a close. There were a lot of cowboys ready for a break from lookin' at one end or the other of steers, and we were there to accommodate them. So far I hadn't seen much of the Bar S men, and for that I was grateful. While it was profitable to have their business, an encounter with Dale Roberts was inevitable, and I wasn't lookin' forward to that.

Dave Parker had gone to have a talk with Roberts the next day, and of course the cowboy declared himself innocent of any harmful intent. Parker left him with a warning and told me to watch my back; I made sure that the Colt was loaded and the derringer was in my shoulder holster at all times. I don't know if he was on my wife's mind or not; we didn't discuss it. I do know that our lovemaking was even more active than before; Doralice's appetite was almost as big as mine, and we couldn't seem to get enough of each other. Yet month by month passed, and there was no hint of any little Mavericks on the horizon.

Cristian was traveling more all the time, which meant Maude was in town less and less. Gradually I became less Floor Manager and more General Manager. Even James Frederick Johnson at the bank began to get used to it. Our life was becoming routine, but that's not to say that it was dull.

Pauly Wilcox and Doralice started their own small business on the side, with Pauly the creative genius and my lovely wife determining the practical aspect of the invention. Every once in a while I'd get a notion and take off for some uninterrupted poker; our reunions were joyous and fulfilling. We were rapidly approaching our first wedding anniversary and I thought it would be an excellent idea to get away from Little Bend for a while; Doralice agreed. We decided on Fort Worth.

What an exciting week! There were long, indulgent breakfasts, followed by naps spent sleeping wrapped up in each other's arms; shopping and sightseeing and gloriously long buggy rides in the country. We even got to see an opera, _H.M.S. Pinafore_ by Gilbert and Sullivan, and it was a delightful evening. Who knew what a good time we'd have. Dinners were entirely decedent, and we both laughed at the thought of candlelight and naughtily indulgent desserts covered with whipped cream.

And the lovemaking! With no rush, no deadlines, all the time in the world to leisurely explore every square inch of each other's bodies. All the times in my life that I was convinced I was in love . . . but there was nothing that compared to what I had with the woman in my arms, in my bed, in my heart. The woman in my soul.

Our week passed too quickly, and we vowed to try and repeat it or something similar as often as we could. It might get harder through the years as our responsibilities increased, but we'd made beautiful memories that would last us a lifetime.

Bret had come to Little Bend while we were away and stepped in to help Maude with the saloon. It seemed odd and yet perfectly natural to come home and find him staying in one of the spare bedrooms. We were both happy to see him; I missed my brother, now that we didn't get to spend much time with each other.

"How was Fort Worth?"

"Wonderful," his sister-in-law told him.

"We saw an opera," I added.

"You mean the two of you actually got out of bed?"

Doralice blushed; I think I even blushed. Bret laughed and told my wife, "He's a Maverick. We're all that way."

"Sorry, honey," I told her. "We come by it naturally. Pappy and Momma drove each other crazy."

Blue eyes was still blushing, but she whispered in my ear, "I'll never complain."

It drove my brother crazy tryin' to figure out what I was smilin' about.

XXXXXXXX

A couple of days later Dave Parker came by Maude's. "You just here for a visit?" I asked him as we sat at a table and drank coffee.

"Wanted to say Happy Anniversary. Those are words I never thought I'd be tellin' you."

"Yeah," I remarked, "there's lotsa folks wouldn't have bet on me and Doralice bein' married, much less makin' it through the first year together."

"Still happy you got hitched?"

"More than I ever thought possible." Dave kinda looked down into his coffee, and I wondered what else was on his mind. "Okay, why'd you really come by?"

"Well . . . Dale Roberts."

"I was sure we'd hear from him again."

"He's been up in the high country, watchin' the herd. Word is he just got back to the Bar S."

"And?"

"Not much, actually. Just wanted you to know he was back."

"You never did say what happened when you went out to see him."

"Let's just say I took care of it."

"Mustn't have turned out real well, since you came here to warn me he was back in the valley."

"I've had better conversations."

"So, Sheriff, should I be sleepin' with one eye open?"

I'd meant it kind of half seriously, but Dave wasn't laughing. In fact, he wasn't even smiling. "It wouldn't hurt."

Well, at least I knew to watch out for the ranch hand. "Alright. I'll keep my eyes open."

"Bart, if he gives you or the saloon the least little bit of trouble, let me know."

I nodded, and Dave left. Not more than ten minutes later my brother appeared, with a worried look on his face. "What are you doin' here?" I asked.

"I came to take over for you. You need to go home."

"Go home? What for?"

"Doralice needs you." I didn't ask any more questions, just took off running for home. When I got there I found Doralice flung across the bed, sobbing hysterically. I scooped her up and held her in my arms while she continued to ball her eyes out.

When she finally slowed down, I asked her as gently as I could. "What's wrong, honey? What happened?"

"Chi-chi-chickens," she choked out. "My chickens."

"What about your chickens?" I pushed.

"Dead . . . gone . . . all of them." She began sobbing all over again, and I held her and rocked her. Finally she added, "And I . . . can't find . . . Lucy."

"I'll go take a look. Will you be alright?"

She nodded and I laid her back down on the bed, then went scramblin' for the back door. Sure enough, there were dead chickens everywhere; the wire around the henhouse had been cut to shreds and what didn't lie dead in the yard was long since gone. "Lucy!" I yelled at the top of my lungs. "Lucy!"

I heard a small 'meow,' and in a minute or two a brown tabby with a white face pulled herself out from under the house. 'MEOW' she wailed plaintively, and came running straight to me. I picked her up and held her close, and she was trembling just the way Doralice had been trembling. "Come on, baby girl," I told her as I carried her back in the house and into the bedroom, where I deposited her in my wife's arms.

"Oh, Lucy!" Doralice cried, and buried herself in the brown fur.

"You two stay in here," I told them both while taking off my coat and leaving it on the bed. I went back outside to begin burial duty.

Their necks had been wrung, every last one of them. I got my hands on the shovel and dug a big hole in the corner of the yard, where I buried what was left of Doralice and Lucy's chicks. When I was done I removed all the old, shredded chicken wire from the henhouse and went four doors up the street, where Pauly was working on a project for the Cooper's. He looked surprised to see me, and I explained what had happened. "When you're done with your work here, can you come down and repair everything? Doralice is gonna want new chickens as soon as possible."

"Weren't no accident, was it, Mr. Bart?" Pauly asked me.

"No, Pauly, it was deliberate."

"You know who did it?"

There was only one person who would have done something like that. "I think so."

"You gonna wring their neck for 'em?"

"I'd sure like to, Pauly, but I'm gonna turn it over to the sheriff instead."

"He gonna wring their neck?"

I almost laughed. "I hope so."

I hurried back to the house to find Doralice and the cat comforting each other. "Who would do something like that? And why? My poor birds." Lucy looked up but never made a sound. I didn't, either, not for several minutes while I held my wife in my arms. Doralice finally sat up and straightened her shoulders. "You know who did it, don't you?"

"I think so."

"Dale from the Bar S?"

"That would be my guess."

"Are you goin' after him?"

I shook my head. "Nope. I'm gonna let Dave Parker go after him."

"Why?" she asked very quietly.

"Because I'd probably shoot him. And that wouldn't get your chickens back. I buried them, by the way."

"You did?"

"Yep, and then I cleaned up the henhouse. Pauly's gonna come down and fix it soon as he can. Then we can get you some new chickens."

"Not until we know what Dave's gonna do about that murderer."

"That murderer . . . oh, you mean Roberts. Yeah, that'd be a good idea. I'm gonna go talk to the sheriff, then go back to Maude's. Alright with you?" She didn't answer me, and I added, "Why don't I send Bret back up to stay with the two of you? I'd feel better that way."

"So would I." She kissed me on the cheek and set Lucy down on the bed. "Be careful, Bart. This man is a lunatic. Anybody that would kill chickens . . . poor, defenseless chickens. I can replace chickens. You . . . not so much."

Nice to know I was more valuable than a chicken.


	10. Repercussions

Chapter 10 – Repercussions

I went straight to the sheriff's office once I left our house. Dave looked up when I came in the door and seemed surprised to see me. "Couldn't stay away from me, huh?" he asked jovially.

"I need to report multiple murders, Dave," and before he could say anything I took a seat next to his desk and began the tale. When I was finished Dave shook his head.

"There's not much I can do, Bart. There's no physical proof that Roberts was the culprit."

"There's an eyewitness, Dave."

"Who?"

"Lucy."

"Who the heck is Lucy?" was his next question.

"Our cat."

"Bart. The cat? Really?"

"He don't need to know she's a cat, does he?"

The sheriff had already rejected the idea. My friend Dave was thinking it over. "It might be worth a try. Let him think there's a witness."

"You know Doralice is heartbroken. And there was no reason for it. Makes me worried about what else he's liable to do."

Dave had made up his mind. "Alright. I'll go out there and see what happens."

I needed Dave to know I was serious. "He comes after me or mine again, Dave . . . he'll wish he hadn't."

Parker nodded. "I'll do my best. I'll let you know what transpires."

"Good. I'm goin' back to work. I'll check in with you tomorrow."

When I got back to Maude's I convinced Bret to return to the house to keep Doralice company. Everything was quiet the rest of the day, and the next two days were so busy that I didn't get back down to see the sheriff. Finally, on the third day, he came to see me. By that time Pauly had repaired the henhouse and the fence and Doralice was out buying baby chicks again.

"Thought you were gonna come see me," was the first thing out of Dave's mouth.

"I been busy. Maude's been out sick and I didn't want Doralice to come back until I'd talked to you. Did Roberts own up to it?"

Dave shook his head. "Nope. No matter what I said or how I said it, he wouldn't admit to it. He acted guilty, but that don't mean anything. Anyway, I made it clear that if he'd had a hand in it, it better not happen again. Doralice started buyin' chickens yet?"

I laughed. It did sound silly when you thought about it. "A few. She's got some of them fancy ones ordered from the Emporium again. God only knows what we'll end up with . . . purple spotted chickens, probably."

Dave laughed, too. Neither one of us had any idea that we wouldn't be laughing in just a few days.

XXXXXXXX

A week later things had settled down to normal. Maude was back to work, Doralice was comin' in with me in the evenings but hadn't gone back out on the floor, and Lucy had already begun makin' friends with the new chicks. It was a Friday evening and everything was goin' smoothly until about midnight, when half a dozen of the Bar S boys walked in. I was helping Willie wash glasses and I didn't see 'em when they first came in, so I didn't know if Roberts was among 'em or not.

They were fairly quiet at first; it took a while to get enough liquor in 'em to get annoying, and then obnoxious. Willie took them beer and whiskey three times, but he was in the back getting a couple bottles the next time they needed liquor and it was either me or my wife. You can guess which one went.

I set the bottle on the table and turned to go only to find one of Robert's friends in my face. "Dale wants to see you," he told me, and I felt something pressing into my back. It could have been a gun, or it could have been a bottle, and I wasn't sure which. A hand reached down and removed my gun from its holster.

We moved to the back table where Dale sat. A chair was pulled out, and I was pushed towards it. "Sit down, Boss Man."

I sat and waited. Roberts stared at me for almost a minute before he spoke, in a menacing tone. "I heard you buried the chickens."

"What else was I supposed to do with them?" I got no answer, so I continued. "What was the purpose of that? You killed my wife's chickens to prove a point?"

"That's it. That's it exactly."

"And what was the point?"

He laughed, like I should understand just what he meant. "That I wasn't through with you or her."

I cleared my throat and made myself ask the next question. "Alright, you proved your point. Now what?"

"Now you get that little heifer out here so we can have some fun with her."

"She was right. You're a lunatic." I could see it in his eyes; I'd pushed him just about as far as he was gonna go. Drunk, crazy, or a combination of the two, I had a whole lotta trouble on my hands. It was then that I saw the muzzle of his colt propped up on the table, aimed somewhere in the vicinity of my chest. "Get her out here, or the gunshot will." It didn't matter what he did, I was not calling Doralice out into the saloon. Of course, my wife picked that exact moment to open her office door and take two or three steps out onto the floor, before she saw the Bar S boys and me sitting at the table. She stopped dead in her tracks, and Dale's attention was drawn towards her and away from me.

His compatriot had taken my colt, but no one knew about the derringer tucked inside my shoulder holster. Quietly I slipped my right hand inside my coat and found the smooth handle of the Remington. It was easy enough to slide out of the holster and keep hidden under the front of the coat. I only had two shots, but that was enough to stop Roberts.

"Come 'ere, honey. It's time you got better acquainted with the boys."

Doralice looked straight at me and I shook my head 'no' ever so slightly. She didn't move.

"I said come 'ere," Roberts repeated, "or I can put a bullet in your man."

Again, Doralice looked at me, and again she didn't move. Roberts kind of sighed and told her, "Fine, if that's the way it's gotta be," and turned his head back my way as he raised the gun and pointed it straight at my heart. Just as he pulled the hammer back, I slipped the derringer out and shot twice. I wasn't taking any chances.

There was a startled look in Roberts's eyes as he slumped forward; the gun fired a wild shot into the air and crashed to the floor with its owner. Everyone seemed frozen in place but Doralice . . . she ran behind the bar and emerged with the shotgun we kept back there. "First person that moves is dead," she spat out, and nobody doubted her.

I shook my head, trying to understand what had just happened. After what seemed like hours I heard Doralice call my name. "Bart."

I shook my head again and managed to stand up and stagger away from the Bar S boys and toward the bar and Doralice. I felt ready to collapse and didn't understand why; I hadn't been hit when the gun went off. I reached my wife just as the sheriff came running into the saloon, and clung desperately to her.

"What happened?" I heard Dave Parker bark out.

"Maverick killed Dale," one of the Bar S boys offered.

"Self-defense," Doralice countered.

Dave was on his heels next to the body. "Bart?"

"Self-defense," I repeated what I'd heard Doralice say.

Dave had been examining the body and spoke to several of the cowboys. "Get him over to Doc Petry's."

"At this time of night?" somebody asked.

"Doc's there, he just delivered a baby. Get him out of here. The rest of you sit down. You ain't goin' nowhere." Dave stood and came over to us behind the bar. "What happened, Bart?"

I must have stared at Dave without answering him, because he turned to Doralice. "Is he hurt?"

"No, Dave, I think he's just . . . stunned."

"Bart, I need you to tell me what happened."

At long last my head began to clear and I asked Dave, "Can we sit down?"

He led me over to the nearest table and we sat. "Tell me what happened, Bart."

I explained it as best I could, but when I got to what happened after I pulled the trigger on the derringer, I couldn't remember much. "You'll have to ask Doralice," I told him. "I ain't sure."

By this time Deputy Will Barton had arrived and was talking to the Bar S hands. I saw two or three of them nod my way and it wasn't long before Will called Dave over and they talked for several minutes. Then the sheriff headed back to the bar, where he and Doralice put their heads together for more than ten minutes. I continued to sit at the table and kept going over what happened until I got a clearer picture of the events. I'd told Dave the truth – I'd fired the derringer in self-defense. Roberts was on the verge of pulling the trigger. . . when I beat him to it. Then why did I feel like I'd done something wrong?

Dave came back to the table and rested his hand on my shoulder. "You're in the clear, Bart. Even the Bar S hands agree Roberts was about to shoot you. Can you come down to the office sometime today so I can get your signature on the report?" I nodded, and Dave continued. "Alright, I'm gonna shut you down for the night. Take your wife and go on home."

Thirty minutes later we were in our bedroom at home. I was still not entirely clear on what happened tonight . . . and I told Doralice that very thing as I undressed. As we got in bed I'd intended to hold her and comfort her, and instead I found her doing those things for me. This wasn't the first man I'd ever killed . . . and I remembered enough to know it was self-defense. Why was I so shaken by what happened?


	11. Kittens

Chapter 11 – Kittens

Weeks after the shooting, I was still struggling with my reaction to the incident that night in the saloon. For the first time in ages, I began having dreams again, and my nerves were on edge more often than not. Doralice did everything she could to help me come to terms with what had happened, but even her loving attention had little effect. None of my feelings made any sense. Roberts was nowhere near the first man I'd had to kill, and the fact that it was self-defense seemed to make no difference.

It got to makin' me so crazy that I finally had to do something about it. One afternoon I took a walk to Simon Petry's office, hopin' to find him without patients. I was in luck, and we sat and kicked everything around for a while before I brought up the reaction I was having.

"Has this been going on since the shooting?" Simon asked.

"Yeah. Every time I think I've put it behind me, somethin' happens, and it starts rattlin' around in my head all over again."

"You know there was nothing you could have done to prevent it, don't you? Roberts was just plain looking for trouble, and you and Doralice were his targets." Simon stopped for a minute before continuing. "Did you know him?"

"Nope, never even saw him in the saloon."

"Know anybody else that works out at the Bar S?"

I gave that one some thought. "I've met Stan Winston, but that's about all." Stan owned the ranch. He'd come into Maude's about a week after the burial and we talked for quite a while. Roberts had been in some minor scrapes with one or two of the other hands, and Winston hoped that being out with the herd for a while would settle things down. Obviously that hadn't happened.

"I kept lookin' for another way out, Simon, but I just couldn't find one. Then Doralice walked out of her office, and I knew . . . "

"How it was going to end?" Simon asked.

"More or less."

"He had no intention of letting you live, no matter what you did." Simon was right, but that still didn't make me feel any better. "And once you were eliminated . . . "

I knew what would have happened then, too. And I shuddered to think what he would have done to Doralice. I did what I had to do, and it was the only thing I could do.

"You have nothing to feel guilty about, Bart. Dale Roberts was responsible for his own death. Besides your own life, you had a wife to protect."

Maybe that was it, what was bothering me about this whole thing. I had a wife to protect. There was somebody besides Bart Maverick in the world that I was responsible for, and it was my job to keep her safe. I'd promised to do that when I married her, and I had to think about her first, from now on.

It was a big job I'd taken on, and I was just now beginning to realize it. I held another person's life in my hands, a person that I loved more than anything, and I'd come real close to losing her. I couldn't let that happen, no matter what I had to do. For the rest of my life.

"You alright?" I heard Simon ask.

"Yeah. Yeah, I think I might be. Thanks, Simon, for listening. I gotta go."

We shook hands, and I hurried down to the saloon. Doralice had gone in early this afternoon and was busy with paperwork when I got there. I didn't let that stop me . . . I closed her office door behind me and pulled her up out of her chair and into my arms. "I love you," I murmured into her ear. "And I promise to always protect you." I kissed her then, over and over, and she kissed me back.

"You always have," came her answer. "And I know you always will."

XXXXXXXX

The haze of guilt and doubt that had been plaguing me began to lift, and it wasn't long before I felt like myself again. Another fall came and went and we started to head towards winter, and everything settled back down into a pleasant routine. The new batch of chickens grew and thrived, and the only thing we were missing was a chick of our own.

Bret and Ginny were stuck in San Francisco and couldn't make it home for Christmas, and Cristian was trying a big case in Houston. Maude, of course, was with him, but we closed the saloon the same days she had last year and prepared to join Pappy, Ben and Lily Mae out at the mansion for Christmas Eve. It was not to be, as all three turned up at the last minute with terrible colds, and the decision was made to stay home.

Actually, it was kinda nice to be alone on Christmas Eve. Doralice, of course, had done her usual decorating and I'd managed to find us a tree, a little smaller than last year but just as pretty. Miss Lucy was all grown up and had her first litter of kittens, four in all, two girls and two boys. One of the boys looked just like his mama, and the other one was solid brown; the girls were both calicoes. Their eyes had just opened, and little tiny meows could be heard everywhere.

On our second Christmas I got up early and made coffee, but when I took a cup of it to my wife, she took one whiff and turned green. "I wonder if you've caught a cold from Lily Mae?" I asked her. She'd been out to visit with Lily one day earlier in the week, and I thought she'd probably brought it back with her. Doralice gave me an odd smile and shook her head.

"I don't think so," she replied, but said nothing further.

"How about some tea instead?"

"That would be delightful." Once the tea was made I brought her a cup and her Christmas present, and she waited to unwrap it until she'd finished the tea. It was a gold bracelet with a heart dangling from it that matched her necklace, and she put it on right away. "It's so beautiful," she told me as she kissed my cheek, and looked at me rather shyly. "I couldn't wrap yours."

"Goodness, what did you do, buy me a horse?" I kind of chuckled.

"Well, no, but I think you may have this as long as a horse." We were on the settee in the front room, with a fire in the fireplace and little meows filling the air. She snuggled closer to me before continuing. "Remember when I went out to see Lily Mae? There was a reason for the visit."

"A specific reason?"

"A very specific reason."

I was perplexed, yet curious. "Are you gonna tell me or are you gonna make me guess?"

"I don't think you could guess this. I hope you like it." She kinda smiled at me before whispering, "We're going to have a baby."

TBC


	12. Belle

Chapter 12 – Belle

"What?"

I wasn't sure I'd heard her. I was prayin' to God with all my might that I had, but I needed confirmation before I exploded.

"We're going to have a baby."

I was speechless. I'd waited for this; prayed for it; dreamt of it, but now that Doralice had said the magic words I couldn't respond. She sat up straight then and stared at me, probably wondering why I hadn't said anything, until she saw the tears running down my face. And then she smiled and wrapped herself in my arms.

"I guess that means you're happy," she chided me, and then giggled.

"You're . . . sure?" I finally managed to ask.

"That's why I went to see Lily Mae. I wanted to be sure before I told you."

Her answer left me curious. "Why not Maude?"

"I thought the father deserved to know before the grandmother did."

"And Lily Mae?"

"Godmothers don't count."

"When do you think?"

"June or July, I'd guess."

I looked at her in dismay. "That long?"

"Patience, Daddy. Babies are complicated to make."

I sighed. "When can we share the news?" Of course I was anxious to tell everybody – especially Bret and Pappy. I WAS GONNA HAVE A BABY. Well, we were gonna have a baby. I couldn't think straight. I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. Oh, my, we needed baby things. A cradle. Clothes. Toys. Blankets. I was about to jump out of my skin with anticipation.

"I think we should wait a while, just in case." Through my hysteria, Doralice had remained as calm as could be. No wonder women have the babies, and not men.

"How long?"

"A month or two."

A month or two? I'd never last that long. She'd told me five minutes ago and I was ready to jump out of my skin right now. How would I last until the end of January? "That long?"

"Bart, that's the second time you've asked that question. I know you're excited, but babies aren't born overnight. He or she will be here when they're ready to be born, and not before. You can't make it go any faster. No matter how much you want it to."

"I know, honey. I'm just . . . eager. We've got a lot to do . . . to get ready."

"Do we have to do it all right now?"

I shook my head. "No, no, we don't have to do any of it right now. We can just sit here while I tell you how happy I am. Wait, you have to stop workin'. You gotta stay off your feet."

She laughed at me then, and I felt like the biggest idiot on earth. "The next thing you'll say is that we have to stop making love."

"Well, we do, don't we?"

Doralice reached up and kissed me. "Do you know how much I love you, you foolish man?"

I blinked once or twice before I answered her. "A lot?" I was hoping that was the answer.

"I am not quitting work. And if we stop making love I'll never speak to you again."

"But won't it . . . "

"Hurt the baby? No, silly. The baby and me will be perfectly fine."

"You're sure?"

She giggled again. "You've asked that before, too."

"Alright. I've got a question that doesn't sound stupid. What are we gonna call it?"

"It's too early to be worried about names."

"No, I mean when we're talking about it. We can't keep sayin' he or she, so what do we call it?"

Doralice got a smile on her face before making her suggestion. "Belle. We call her Belle."

"Do you think it's a girl? I mean really?" I whispered.

"I've got a funny feeling that it is. Would you mind?"

I shook my head. "I'd love it to be a girl."

Now all I had to do was wait until June or July. And then our lives would never be the same.


	13. Epilogue

Epilogue

It was almost the end of February when Doralice finally said to me, "Ok, Daddy, it's time."

"Time for what?" I asked stupidly.

The beautiful mother-to-be burst out laughing. It took a minute or more for me to realize what she was talkin' about. "Oh. Oh." That's when I took a good look at her. Something about her had changed; that was plain. The dress she had on was just a little tight around her middle, and for the first time I clearly saw what she meant – a baby bump had finally begun to show.

"Who do we tell first?"

Maude should be the first, I thought, before remembering that Maude was in Abilene with Cristian. That left an obvious choice – Pappy. Her answer confirmed it. "Beauregard, of course."

"When?"

She looked down at her little belly and laughed again. "As soon as possible, don't you think?"

"Can we go out to Ben's today?" I wasn't anxious or anything.

"Right now, if you'll go get the buggy."

I kissed her and hurried towards the door. "I'll be right back."

Once we were on our way I had to keep reminding myself to _'stay calm, stay calm.'_ I don't know how much good that was doing, but I was still fairly coherent by the time we arrived at Ben's house. Lily Mae answered the door and just grinned at us, then went upstairs to stay out of the way. Bless her heart, she knew what we were there for. I took Doralice's hand and we walked into the kitchen, where we were lucky enough to find Pappy sitting by himself, nursing a cup of coffee. He looked up and his scowl quickly turned into a smile. "Well, lookee here. What are you two doin' out here this time of day?"

I helped Doralice sit down and then I poured myself a cup of coffee. "We just thought we'd come to visit. Where's Ben?"

"Still asleep. I just couldn't stay in bed no longer." Pappy noticed that I hadn't gotten my wife a cup and gave me the Beauregard glare. "You don't get some for your wife?"

"I don't want any, Beauregard." Doralice hadn't been able to stand even the smell of it since Belle had made her presence known. "We wanted to tell you something."

"Oh Lord, now what? You gonna add more on to that house? Why don't you just buy a bigger one?"

Neither of us said a word, and Pappy's expression slowly began to change. It went from slightly annoyed to curious to hopeful . . . before he could stand it no longer. "Well, what is it? Tell me. I'm an old man and I can't stand the suspense."

"Pappy . . . you're gonna be a grandpa. We're having a baby."

For one of the few times in his life, my Pa was speechless. He sat there at the table with a cross between joy and bewilderment written on his face, until he finally murmured, "Baby? You're havin' a baby? My little boy is gonna be a daddy?"

I was almost as choked up as Pappy, and Doralice answered him. "Yes, Beau, your youngest son is gonna be a daddy. Sometime in June or July. And you're gonna be a grandpa."

I'm not quite clear about what happened next. There was some whooping and hollering. I was grabbed around the neck and I'd swear those were kisses rained all over my forehead. Then whatever had descended on me attached itself to Doralice instead, and there were more loud and joyous noises. Finally I felt hands on my shoulders, and a very un-pappylike voice murmured, "Stand up, Bartley."

I obeyed and found myself enveloped in what seemed like a never-ending bear hug. "My boy, my boy, my boy," became a litany, repeated over and over, until it turned into "I'm so proud of you." Before I knew it, Doralice had somehow been included in the bear hug that had turned ever so gentle, and it was then I saw the tears running down my father's face.

'You're crying," I accused him.

"So are you," he shot right back at me.

"What am I gonna do with the two of you?" a dry-eyed Doralice questioned both of us.

"I never thought . . ." Pappy started, and then stopped.

"You never thought what?" I asked.

"I never thought you'd live long enough to have a child. You were always tryin' to die on us, one way or the other. And now . . . a baby." He leaned over and kissed Doralice on the cheek. "And the most wonderful wife in the world. My boy, I'm so proud of you."

Lily Mae finally came back downstairs and cried along with the rest of us, just as if she hadn't known a thing since Christmas. When we finally got ready to leave, over an hour later, I was still stunned by the turn of events. We drove home at about the same pace that we'd driven out there, but my heart was so full that it felt like it was about to burst. Pappy was thrilled to death that he was gonna be a grandpa, but more than just that. My father was proud of me.

The End


End file.
